Asleep at the Trigger
by AMWA
Summary: 26-year-old Heidi Hubbard is your average gun-for-hire, who has been forced to lie low in Boston. A close encounter with certain Russian gentlemen leave her in the "caring" hands of Connor and Murphy. So, when did she start gunning for God? MurphyxOC
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Hello lovely readers of the BDS fandom! I've been playing with this idea I've had for a while now, and I'm pretty sure that if I don't put it down into writing it's going to drive me insane. And more insanity is not needed! Basically, what you're looking at, is a revamp of the first movie. Yeah, I know it's been done, and I guarantee you that there are people out there that have done it 347985619087568756324987634 better than I could ever dream of. But, I'm stubborn, and writing this is a lot of fun. A quick note as to the structure of the writing: I'm being a little wishy-washy as to POV (it'll get better...I promise) so dashes (such as the one below)indicate a change in POV. Hopefully that's not too confusing... So, I hope you enjoy this little spin-off as much as I enjoy writing it.

ALSO! Before I forget I need to thank the best Beta Reader in the world, **You May Call Me Goddess - Bitch Goddess**, for fixing all the little (and big) fuck ups. I highly recommend finding a Beta Reader! They're like your own personal Genie, but with better grammar and less of a tendency to break into a musical number. Not that I wouldn't mind seeing that.

**DISCLAIMER**: If I owned anything, either directly or indirectly, relating to BDS I wouldn't be writing fanfiction, now would I?

* * *

**Monday: March 18****th**** 10:45 A.M. **

Never before had Heidi been so glad to hear the croaking of rusting metal as she struggled with her bonds. She could feel her wrists swelling, and with each tug against the handcuffs, she cursed the Russian who had put her there.

'_Fuck…you...Fuck you. Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou.' _The mantra had become so ingrained into all her thoughts for the past couple of hours that the constant hum of it was slowly driving her insane.

She abandoned her struggling for a moment and glanced around; hoping that maybe _someone_ would pass by, but as fortune would have it no such luck. From what she could make out, she was in a poor neighborhood somewhere east of Fort Point Channel; but Heidi couldn't be quite sure as she was close to blind without her glasses. All the squinting she had been doing was giving her a headache, and it did little to increase her vision. She was hopeless without her specs and considering her profession, the constant need for them continuously put her at risk; case in point, this very day.

She hadn't expected the ambush on her dingy loft, so they easily took advantage of her confusion and lack of sight. Heidi always assumed that this particular weakness would bite her in the ass one day. But, much like the hooker who thought she'd never get an STD, she was kind of hoping it wouldn't.

Although it was March, it was still cold enough to wear one's winter clothes, especially with the winds, so characteristic of the East Coast blowing through the cities. Compared to what they had been in the early winter months, the gusts blowing through Boston now seemed like warm summer breezes. However, considering her lack of clothing, these gusts sent an incessant stream of goose bumps up her scrawny legs. Heidi realized that her chances of leaving Boston had now shrunk to acute odds, they could have at least let her put on a pair of pants.

As it were, Heidi Hubbard was in a bit of a crux. She had had to abandon her beloved New York City, come to Boston - a terrible fate in and of itself - and hide from Yakuza, only to be picked off by the Russian mob. So now, here she was, standing in some shit-hole alley in South Boston, wearing nothing but a "CHOOSE LIFE!" T-shirt -the irony was not lost on Heidi- underwear and socks. Heidi gave another futile tug at the handcuffs. Unfortunately for her, the fire exit they had chained her to was sturdy enough to withstand her meager attempts at escape.

'_Of course, the one time something is made to last.' _

She sighed, closing her eyes momentarily. The two meatheads who had accompanied her up until this point had scampered off into the building to which they had chained her. Heidi wasn't quite sure what she should make of this, but she really didn't care either, as all thoughts were drowned out by the pounding of her own chattering teeth.

The meatheads in question were two Russian lackeys riding on the coattails of their respective crime boss. Ivan and Vladdy, as she had come to learn, obviously took a lot of pride and enjoyment out of their work, if the taunts and rough handling she received were anything to go by. She vaguely remembered seeing the bigger one in New York a few years ago when the Russian mob first started spreading its roots in the city. He had been muscle then and it appeared that not much had changed, except for his choice in partner, and garish clothes. While the Russians had always been an uncomfortable bunch to deal with, these two were especially disgruntled -and since Heidi considered herself generally intelligent- she surmised it had something to do with the odd bandaging accompanying both mobsters. Ivan, bulky and bald, looked quite comical with his diaper-like bandages. Even in her situation, she couldn't help but giggle every time she saw him waddle around like a big baby. Naturally, this earned her a few extra wallops to the head. No wonder it felt like her head was about to burst open.

Judging by the clear rays of light filtering through the alley it must have been close to 11 o'clock, but who knew, Heidi had never been good at keeping track of time. It being Monday morning, the lack of people on the streets wasn't all too surprising. By now, most were at work, and those that weren't were most likely sleeping off a night of heavy drinking.

Heidi didn't have to wait much longer before she heard a door slam open. This was followed shortly by shuffling footsteps and the angry growls of her captors. Craning her neck as far as she could, she watched as the two Russians pushed a young man in front of them. From what Heidi could make out, he had dark hair and was about as well dressed as she was, however he had the advantage of a coat of sorts. Before she had any time to contemplate his mode of dress further, the hairier of her captors - at least she assumed he had hair, his head being bandaged and all - grabbed her roughly by the arm and released one of her handcuff only to spin her around and have her kneel next to the mystery man.

"Great, as if I wasn't dizzy enough…"

She scowled up at her captor -who she had dubbed "Vladdy the Fatty" in one of her childish fits- and watched as the man's fleshy hand reattached the hard metal circlet around her left wrist.

He showed little interest in what she had said and the only response he gave was to make the cuff tighter than was necessary. At least they had cuffed her with her hands in front, although this still left little to the imagination as far escaping was concerned. Every escape plan she formulated was rejected by the image of getting her brains blown out. Frustrated, Heidi turned her head slightly to the left, just enough so she could begin to make out the blurry figure kneeling next to her. She could distinguish little of his facial features, except for the dark, scraggly hair and brows and a short, curved nose. Heidi wondered what he had done to offend the Russians' delicate sensibilities. She knew from first-hand experience, that it didn't take much to piss them off.

Ivan, seemed to be in a jovial mood as he glared down at Heidi, "Look," he chuckled, "I have brought you some company so you will not be alone when you die, _malen__ʹ__kaya shlyuha!" _

A look of distaste crossed Heidi's face and leaning into her fellow prisoner she mumbled, "I've never understood why the Russians feel the need to insult me in their language. I don't speak Russian. I never know what they're saying…"

"Believe me, ye don't wanna know."

Heidi was a little surprised upon hearing his accent but pushed the thought to the back of her head and looked down at his hands, which she noticed were free.

"Hey! How come he's not cuffed? What happened to equality and all that shi-?"

Her indignant outcry was cut short by a fierce slap across the cheek that sent her reeling backwards into black trash bags ripe with the stench of rotting food. Groaning, Heidi rolled to her right and spit out the blood that had begun trickling into her mouth from the newly acquired split lip.

* * *

Murphy jolted at this sudden abuse and the grunt it had elicited from the girl. He was ready to tackle the guy to the ground, but his thought was cut short as he found the barrel of a gun pressed against his forehead. Ivan turned his slimy grin on him and not wasting any time said, "I hope your conscience is clear, Irishman!"

Instead of releasing a string of profanity like he had planned, he saw his brother standing 50 feet above them, tightly hugging the toilet Murphy remembered him being cuffed to, and his face almost unrecognizable with rage. It only took seconds for Murphy to understand what he was planning. Before he could react, the toilet was hurling down towards the bald man and to Murphy's horror and amazement, his brother followed suit shortly after the toilet had been deployed. What had started out as a loud, "NO!" turned into a guttural scream, cut short as he shielded his head with his arms. The lid to the back of the toilet was the first thing to touch the ground, barely missing Murphy and landing in the trash bags where only seconds before the dark-haired girl had been.

* * *

It had taken Heidi a little longer to react, or for that matter, fully understand what was happening. If it hadn't been for the man's scream she would most likely have been smashed to death, and frankly, death by tank lid didn't sound too appealing. Seconds before the lid landed, she managed to dive further to the right. She landed roughly on the cement, skimming her still-cuffed hands on the ground.

Heidi turned her head just in time to see a blurry streak of white crash on Ivan's head with a sickening crunch. Upon impact, the toilet exploded into thousands of pieces, flying in all directions. A particularly large chunk of porcelain slammed into the back of Heidi's head.

'_Christ on a cracker, can't a girl catch a break!' _A sea of black dots spread itself across her already shitty vision, each new fleck growing larger, and for a second she thought she might pass out. Instead, the jagged pain began to muscle itself to the front of her head peaking in the center of her forehead and she clutched at the spot where the piece had hit her. She felt a few small pieces had been deposited into her tangled hair, as she awkwardly rubbed the spot with both her hands. A shot rang out from one of the guns she knew they were carrying, and the sharp sound of metal colliding with metal soon rang through the alley. Almost instantly, another bullet was fired as a male figure came diving down to land precisely on Vladdy, who was taken completely by surprise and buckled immediately under the weight. She heard another series of pops and the distinct crunch of vertebrae collapsing under the immense pressure, and winced. Not that she felt sorry for him.

Heidi barely had time to register everything that was happening at once, and as soon as she heard the shots echo through the alley, her body instinctively curled up, her hands quick to cover her head once more. She stayed in this position until she was sure nothing else was going to fall from the sky, and in the silence that followed, all she could think of was that stupid song, "It's Raining Men."

* * *

Murphy was quicker to react and was on his feet as soon as his brother hit the ground. He heard no sound except for the blood rushing in his ears, as he moved out of his crouching position. Soon he was hovering over his twin, gently turning him over. He patted his cheek lightly and checked for vital signs, relieved to discover his shallow breathing. The chord that had rapped itself around his chest from the moment he saw his brother standing five stories above them, quickly dissolved, and he felt the warmth returning to his jittery finger tips. Worry, quickly turned into anger and disbelief, as he mentally began directing every swear word in his extensive vocabulary towards Connor. A few moments into his tirade he noticed a slight movement off to his left. The thick Russian that had been felled by his mentally unstable brother groaned and sluggishly tried to reach for the gun that had skidded only a few inches away from him. Once again, Murphy was on his feet and quickly retrieved the tank lid lying in the pile of trash. Without hesitation, he brought the lid down one, two, three times on Vladdy's head until he was sure he was no longer moving. Tossing it to the side, Murphy quickly grabbed a rotting shopping bag and hopped over the girl -who was still warily covering her head- and Connor to stand over Ivan's body, hands roaming until he reached into the man's pockets and extracted a wad of money, keys and, naturally, the gun. He also made it a point to take his heavy, gold jewelry. Tacky as it was, it looked expensive. The same procedure followed on his henchman.

* * *

Heidi sat up and watched in fascination as the scrawny guy hoisted the other man over his shoulder. He quickly looked over the scene until his frantic eyes came to rest on her.

"What the hell are ye waitin' for?" He looked ready to charge headlong into the next fight. Once again, Heidi felt the distinct need to giggle, but squelched it before the action had a chance to manifest itself.

She pushed herself to her feet and examined the damage done, "Slow your roll, man, from what I can tell they're both dead."

She quickly snatched the yellow bag from his left hand. Setting it on the ground, she rummaged through the contents until her cuffed hands found the key chain she had been looking for, and pulled it from the bag. She thrust them towards him, who reluctantly took them and stared at her questioningly.

"Would you do me the honor?" Heidi raised her cuffed hands and grinned expectantly.

It took him a moment to find the right key with his one free hand and a few more until Heidi was able to drop the cuffs into the paper bag. Once again, she snatched the key from her fellow captive, went around his back, facing the wannabe Icarus and undid first the right cuff, then the left, and carefully peeled the metal out of the deep cuts. These too were dropped into the bag; she held on to the keys. Heidi noted the bewildered expression but continued her circling. Figuring that the unconscious man wasn't in immediate need of his boots she plunked herself down and began pulling off his shoes and putting her own socked feet into them.

"You must really mean something to him. So… are you two…" she looked up knowingly as she finished tying the laces of the heavy boots. Obviously the young man standing in front of her was of some importance to their strange, slightly insane rescuer. It took a lot of devotion to jump off a building for someone. At least that's what Heidi assumed, never having felt the urge to do something of such magnitude for another human being.

She watched with some amusement as he tried to figure out what she had meant by her comment. Dark brows knitted together momentarily, and shot apart just as quickly as they had connected, the meaning of her veiled statement becoming clearer.

Heidi listened with some joy to the pleasing Irish accent, "No, we're brothers. Look, I haven' got all day. I've gotta get him to the emergency room. So, if you don' mind…" The undertones of mistrust and irritation were easily picked up on by Heidi. It was understandable that he didn't trust her. The feeling was mutual. Before she had a chance to retort, he had jogged towards the direction he had come from, snatching up the bag as he went.

'_This guy's even dumber than he looks…'_ Heidi stood up testing her newly acquired shoes. They were at least four sizes too big, but they would do for now. She watched the retreating figure a moment longer, her exasperation mounting with each step he took. There was something about him that made her fingers twitch.

"So what exactly are you gonna do, run there?"

* * *

Murphy spun around, which was rather difficult with the extra weight on his back, and saw her hold up the key chain. He could have sworn that they had been back in the paper bag before he had snatched it up. That didn't matter however, because for the first time, he noticed the car keys.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I've recently come down with a cold, and between picking boogers out of my septum piercing and a Nyquil induced delirium, someone managed to get me to use a contraption called a Neti potty. Worst decision of my life. For all you who are convinced that it helps, you bitches lie like the day is long. I almost drowned in my own mucus, and I have to say that my nostrils will never be the same. All of you nasal virgins, beware of such evils, shut your doors and keep your nostrils under lock and key.

As far as future updates are concerned, I hope to have the next chapter up before the 20th of December. I will be traveling to Germany for the New Year and I will be alienating myself from the internet until I get back. That being said, I won't be writing chapter four until the middle of January. I like to be relatively vocal about my writing process so if there are any changes I'll post it under my account.

I wanna take a moment to thank all the wonderful people that reviewed my little musings! You guys are the B-E-S-T! Also thank you to all of those that have me on their alert list, not to worry, I will be alerting you all on a regular basis… Ooer. Before I leave you all to scuttle about the interwebs (or read the next chapter…whichever comes first) I need to address some things that require proper credit. Unfortunately I forgot to mention this the first time around, but here it goes… the title is NOT mine! I borrowed it from a great band by the name of Autolux, but I bet you all knew that. If you didn't, check them out, they're tres bon!

Something else I suppose I should mention: My story takes place in 1996 for my own crazy reasons that are entirely unnecessary, but I'm sticking with it out of stubbornness!

Thank you again to** You May Call me Goddess-Bitch Goddess** for betaing.

**DISCLAIMER: **I still don't own anything. But I am willing to rent.

That's it, ladies. Merry reading!

* * *

**Monday: March 18 11:20 A.M.**

It didn't take long for them to find the car. Luckily the Russians had been lazy enough to park on the block rather than be safe and park a little further down. Heidi, still clutching the keys, was the first to find the car. The two-door was nondescript, black, and relatively shabby; it's only distinctive feature the taped-on antenna over the driver's side of the hood. Heidi quickly unlocked the doors and watched as her companion struggled to maneuver the limp body into the back of the vehicle.

"Gimme a hand with this, yeah?" he said.

By "this", she assumed he meant his still unconscious and bleeding brother. He had managed to get the top half of the limp body into the small vehicle without hitting his head; the tricky part now, was to get the lower half in too. Heidi pulled open the driver's door and wondered why he was desperately trying to squeeze the lanky man into the back when it would have been much easier to stow him in the front.

'_That paranoid fuck can't possible think I'm gonna try something if I sit in the back!' _The thought came to her after a moment's consideration. She was insulted by his distrust and frankly, the notion was preposterous. On the other hand, she probably would have reacted in the same way, so she let it slide, this time.

Deftly, she grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled as hard as she could, inching him forward until his head was at the end of the back seat.

'_For someone so skinny he's damn heavy,_' with a final grunt, the unconscious body was fully in the car; she pushed back the seat and gently closed the door so as not to hit his head again. Soon Heidi found herself looking across the hood of the car waiting for the "Paranoid Fuck" to straighten his back.

"You drive," he said.

She couldn't quite tell if he was looking at her, something that bothered her immensely.

Heidi snorted, "That's not such a good idea."

She was still without her glasses and blind as a bat, so the chances of her getting everyone to safety seemed a little far-fetched.

He didn't wait for an explanation as Heidi tossed him the keys, and they quickly switched positions. She could tell he was worried about his brother, he was visibly vibrating with concern, and they took off before Heidi managed to close her door completely.

The car ride was tense and little was said, as they weaved their way through traffic, the dull Boston scenery passing in a blur. Heidi noted the sharp inhale and occasional swear word whenever they hit a red light. For the most part, she ignored him and took the time to scrutinize her injuries. Her wrists were red, and bruises had started blooming where the handcuffs had pressed against her wrist bone. There was blood caked to her palms from when she had scraped them, and a large bump was forming on the back of her head. Her lips were dry, cracked and bleeding and they felt particularly sore from where her lower lip had burst open. Heidi had cranked up the heater, and the stale warm air now fully encompassed the interior of the car. Each time she blinked, it took her lids a fraction of a second longer to open; but she kept telling herself a good gunman _does not _fall asleep in a strange environment no matter how soothing the car ride may be.

'_Maybe I'll just close my eyes for a second…'_

She had just begun to doze comfortably, her head resting against the cold moist glass, when the car came to a screeching halt, causing Heidi to hit her head for the nth time that day. Cursing, she glared at their driver, but he had already jumped out of the car and hoisted his brother over his shoulder. She wasn't quite sure how he had managed to extract him so quickly, but Heidi thought she heard the thump of a head being hit against the car frame. Obviously, getting people to hit their heads was a specialty of his.

She quickly scrambled out of the car, catching up with him on the last stair, vaguely noting the large square building looming over them. The sign read 'South Boston Community Healthcare.'

"What do you think you're doing?"

His brows dove into deep furrows as he looked over his shoulder at Heidi. His tone indicated frustration, something she was beginning to get used to, "What does it look like I'm doin'?"

Heidi scoffed, "That's not what I meant. Why are you taking _that_," she pointed at the yellow bag, "in _there._"

They both turned their gaze to the emergency room, watching the automatic doors constantly open and close with a soft hiss as people continuously spilled in and out of the room.

He relaxed and grinned at her, "They've seen worse."

Without waiting for her response he walked through the door.

Heidi took one last look at the abandoned little car blocking a greater part of traffic and followed with a loud, "Piss head!"

The doors closed behind her with a puff of air. Various sounds assaulted her ears; she'd forgotten how noisy these places were as. The high-pitched squeals of children's voices mixed in with the quiet groans of older patients. The distinct slurs of drunks and the splatter of vomit spilling into buckets mingled in with the generally quieter hospital sounds. Squabbles erupted and soon pattered out as nurses flitted from one end of the room to the next carrying stacks of clipboards. The bright fluorescent lights were unforgiving on various scenes of gore and sick. Between these extremes, Heidi recognized the fuzzy yet familiar expressions of shock, fear and insecurity mirrored on the faces of many. She lightly stepped out of the way as a herd of gurneys rushed passed, and soon found herself standing behind her dark-haired companion who had caught the attention of the nurse sitting behind the welcome desk.

Watching his back as it struggled with the weight of another, she realized for the first time that she didn't even know his name, but soon concluded that maybe that was best. The less she knew about him, the better and vice versa.

Head cocked to the left, she mulled this over and slowly began to realize now would probably be the ideal time to slip out. After all, her injuries were minor. A doctor wouldn't able to do much but tell her to rest and question why she was in her underwear, something she was becoming more aware of with each passing second. Somehow, the fact that she was in her skivvies seemed of little importance back in the dirty alley, but here, in the busy ER she couldn't help notice the stares. She inched a little closer to the dark-haired male in front of her, hoping to somehow hide in his shadow, simultaneously clasping her hands behind her. She liked to think that she wasn't so easily mortified, but this was a little too much exposure, even for her.

Trying to focus on something else, Heidi figured they had a few hours, at most, before the cops came looking for them and began asking uncomfortable questions such as, why there were two dead bodies with serious spinal injuries, and how they came to be there in the first place. It would be best if she could be out of the picture before things got too messy, especially since this time there was no one to clean up the mess.

Being an independent contractor had its perks, no doubt; however, there was no better security blanket than a well-executed agreement that got her out of almost anything. She'd been doing business with gangsters since her senior year in college, and while the majority of them were cheating low-lives, they still took care of their workers and made sure that the cops stayed out of her way. It had taken some adjustments, since no one is born a killer, but once those were made she found killing people for a living quite lucrative albeit a little nerve-wracking.

In the five years since she had started she found that the anxiety that came with each hit to be about the same, she had just gotten better at hiding it and more confident in her skills. If she remembered correctly, her first hit was absolutely terrifying, although it couldn't have been easier if someone had actually done the shooting for her. The night before she had watched _La Femme Nikita_, huddled under a blanket, trying to find a little inspiration, although she established that she was nothing like the kick-ass protagonist and this only helped to further dampen her spirits.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she remembered the Heidi of five years ago, and the nervousness that had her stomach cramping in all sorts of unnatural ways.

**_Wednesday: November 13, 1991 4:50 P.M._**

_'_There are only two things without limit: femininity and the means to exploit it…'

_ Heidi repeated the quote one last time as she stepped into the elevator and turned around just in time to watch the doors slide shut. She hesitated, her gloved middle finger hovering over the keypad, before pushing the circular button for the 42__nd__ floor which also happened to be the pent house. After a moment the elevator began its slow ascent, bringing Heidi ever closer to her destination. _

_She took two deep breaths to calm her jittery nerves and tried hard to remember what exactly she was going to do. In theory, it was simple enough. But the reality of it felt just as foreign as the business suit she had donned for the occasion. The combination of tight knee-length skirt and heels forced her usually wide gait into a series of feminine stumbles._

_ Her dark, unruly hair had been tamed and forced into a high ponytail and Heidi felt as if she had to work twice as hard to move under the cloud of heavy perfume. Her face was heavy with foundation and rouge and she kept reminding herself not to touch the corner of her eye lest she smear the liner that now ran along her lids. _

_ Her brown leather briefcase felt unusually heavy and she was careful not to move it too abruptly or tilt it in any way. Heidi was still a little weary of the eight pound gun and its custom silencer resting within. She kept telling herself that it was ridiculous to think the thing would go off if she moved the case too vigorously; however, this didn't stop her from moving the case in front of her and grasping the handle with both hands. In general, the Desert Eagle was too loud and too flashy for the simple job she was going to pull, but her employer had a soft spot for loud flashy firearms and that was what he had presented to her. Even with the .375 Magnum cartridges, there was no denying that this gun was not for short ranges, and was going to leave a bloody mess in its wake. Heidi shuddered just thinking about it. _

_ She chanced a quick glance into the upper right-hand corner of the elevator and wasn't surprised to see the small camera that seemingly focused on the elevator's sole occupant. Ishii-san –Heidi still had trouble with the pronunciation- had reassured her that the building was under the Yakuza's jurisdiction and that the security officer on duty had been paid a lot of money to tamper with the tapes and remove any evidence of the time she was in the building. So far, everything was going exactly as it should be, but Heidi still couldn't shake the adrenaline that made her hands quake and her heart trip over its own beat._

_ In the past six months life for her had changed subtly, yet significantly. She was still attending NYU, living in her family's elaborate downtown town house, and she was still hanging out with the same unsavory characters as before, yet somehow the gun in her briefcase made everything just a little different. _

_ Kai Ishii, former boyfriend and grade-A scumbag, was the first to introduce her to the few yakuza members operating in New York City. Kai's uncle, who she came to know as Ishii-san, had taken a shine to her and she soon started to work as an under-secretary, although it was never anything official and what she came to see as a part-time job._

_ Ishii-san was a man in his late fifties, who looked more like a polished businessman than a gangster. He was always very polite and formal with her. His English wasn't the best, but that didn't seem to stop him from communicating with her in whatever form possible. He especially enjoyed sharing the lengthy, and somewhat boring, history of the Yamaguchi-gumi clan, which he proudly stated to be, _"the largest Yakuza family in Japan."_ He carried some weight within the family, holding the position of financial advisor to the higher-ups. Ishii-san had tried to explain the complex hierarchy of the Yakuza, but her mind had started to wander after the first half-hour, so she never quite grasped the ranks and titles. _

_ Perhaps if Heidi had paid attention she would know who she was to be executing today and what part he played in the vast Yakuza Empire. Actually, from what she had been told, there would be two men present today, one an underling of Ishii-san, and the other a Hawaiian correspondent working in the Methamphetamine trade. Ishii-san did not explain why these men were to be executed -relating only that they had caused him to lose a lot of money- and Heidi figured that it wasn't her place to ask. _

_ She stepped out of the elevator and was promptly greeted by the smell of boiled cabbage, the acrid smell uncharacteristic of the otherwise posh, sterile building. As this was the pent house floor there were only two doors in the narrow hallway. Immediately in front of Heidi was the apartment door, on each side lounged a slender young man in a dark suit. To her left she could see the door for the stairs and roof access. The two men watched her intently but neither one of them seemed alarmed as she stepped out of the elevator. _

_ As neither of them moved, Heidi took another step and rang the doorbell beneath the peephole. The finality of the simple sound sent her heart back into overdrive, which only increased as the door opened and she was greeted by a middle-aged Japanese man. _

_ Heidi remembered to smile and she greeted him, as he in turn inclined his head and ushered her further into the apartment._

_ The door closed behind her with a soft click and the gentleman led her through the entrance. The apartment was lavishly decorated and looked as if it came straight out of an Ikea catalog. On the other end of the apartment were a row of wide windows from which one could see the Empire State Building; but it was a foggy dreary day, and one could only make out the tall building's outline. _

_ They walked straight through the apartment into a wide area which had been set up as a formal dining room, in the center of the room a simple table, at the furthest end from her sat who Heidi assumed to be the correspondent. He was a little younger than his correspondent and dressed a little flashier than the latter. His suit was black and shimmered green whenever he moved; his button down shirt was left open at the top, the dramatic collar reminiscent of the seventies. He watched Heidi through narrowed eyes, greedily sucking on the butt of a cigarette, the smoke of it slowly spiraling towards her. Heidi attempted a second smile and greeted him, but he seemed unimpressed and instead looked at the man standing next to her. A flurry of rough sounds were thrown in Heidi's direction, and she soon realized it was Japanese, and out of the corner of her eyes she saw the man next to her start and throw an apologetic glance her way. She was a little taken aback by this rudeness, and in some ways this helped her feel not so bad about having to kill him. Obviously, the man was a prick. _

"Please, Ms. Hubbard, won't you have a seat?" _there was only a trace of a Japanese accent in his voice as the man next to her directed her towards the seat at the very center of the table. _

_ Heidi felt a little dazed and silently removed her coat, throwing it over the back of her chair and placing her case in front of her gently. She stared at it a moment longer before quickly lifting her gaze towards the two men, who had now taken seats on either side of the table._

_ Showtime. _

_ Clearing her throat she began speaking into the otherwise quiet room,_ "Thank you, gentlemen, for meeting me today. I know that you are both very busy, so on behalf of Ishii-san I would like to express my gratitude for taking time out of your schedules. Ishii-san would also like to apologize for not being able to be here himself, but feels that I will be able to facilitate this meeting adequately in his place," _she paused and strained herself to smile once more, her eyes nervously flicking back to the briefcase,_ "As I have come to learn from Ishii-san, there have been some troubles trying to formulate the agreement you two have been working on. I'm sorry to say this has caused Ishii-san some trouble, and although he feels that your venture is financially unwise, Ishii-san is confident that there is a way to fix this."

_Her trembling hands undid the gold clasps of her case. She had managed to deliver the speech she had memorized without flaw, and more importantly without revealing her nervousness. There was only one more thing left to do. The chrome Desert Eagle glinted dully under the artificial light. It seemed to be urging her on_, 'Go ahead, stupid girl. Pick me up and do what you were paid to do, and remember, you're the only one who leaves this apartment alive.'

_Heidi calculated that she had a few minutes before the butterflies in her stomach rendered her incapable of doing anything. She knew the time for action was now, forcing her brain to quit its incessant stream of useless thoughts, and focus on the task ahead. Quickly, so as to not raise suspicion, she removed a stack of papers and added them to the piles already strewn across the table's surface, pulling two further copies out of her case and placing them to her right and left for the two men. Heidi had decided that the man to her right, the extra from_ Saturday Night Fever_, would be the first to go as he would be more likely to pose a threat. She knew both men carried guns on them, so Heidi had to get it right the first time._

_ She did not hear the chair crashing to the ground, as she kicked it back, now wielding the chrome monstrosity extracted from the briefcase. Her stance was wide, as she turned right. Arms stretched out, she steadied the gun with both hands, her mind screaming at her to hit the man and for God's sake not break the window; anticipating the massive recoil, remembering that she had to try and redirect the force to the ground. The blast was louder than she remembered, it left Heidi momentarily deaf, and the mess left in the bullet's wake resembled a juicier version of the watermelons she had practiced on. _

_ She only took seconds to process the cracked, ragged skull and bits of brain matter before spinning around. The Japanese man seemed startled, his eyes moving back and forth between her and the body behind her, he had not screamed and was still silent, his hands folded and resting on the table. His grim expression now turned to the window, and Heidi knew if she didn't pull the fucking trigger that very second she was going to be sick all over the Persian rug under her feet. _

_ Focusing again, she felt the resistance of the trigger and felt it give way to the pressure of her finger. Once more, the same deafening blast momentarily swallowed the room, and once more the gun kicked back into her hands and forced them slightly upward._

_ Heidi heard the soft plink of the casing fall somewhere behind her. She quickly dropped her gaze to the floor to avoid the gory scene in front of her and stumbled back to the brown brief case that still lay open and waiting. The butterflies that had been wrecking havoc in her intestines had suddenly disappeared, but the nauseous feeling remained and only intensified with the eerie silence and metallic smell that now lingered in the air. The constant thumping in her chest reached a crescendo and was a stubborn reminder that she was still very much alive, which meant she should get moving._

_ Heidi thought she should feel something other than the physical pain of nausea. Feelings such as remorse, horror, or regret being a few fine examples she could think of. Instead, she collected the papers she had used as a distraction, shut her case and put on her coat, the shock of the last few seconds making her movements rigid and the pain in her gut left her hunched over. _

_ She wasn't quite sure how she found the door, but she somehow managed to stumble through it. The two men watched her emotionlessly, but caught the door before it could fall shut. One of them patted her on the shoulder, and they both disappeared through the door; they were there to remove any traces of evidence._

_ The elevator ride felt much shorter this time and she was soon walking past the security desk, the man behind it not bothering to look up. _

_ A blast of cold air had her buttoning her coat as she stepped out onto 38__th__ and 6__th__ Avenue. The gray sky had become darker as the sun began its early descent, safely hidden behind voluminous clouds. A group of suited men quickly stepped around her and she too joined the flow of moderate foot traffic. She only had one goal in mind; quickly crossing, just as the walking meter had turned red, she didn't stop her quick pace and walked to the back of the well-stocked deli to find where they kept their medication. She grabbed the bottle of Pepto Bismol, tore the plastic wrapping off and downed two mouthfuls of the thick liquid. As if by magic, her stomach began to settle almost instantly, and feeling satisfied she went to the counter and paid. _

Heidi still had not moved from her spot, and her eyes focused on the same ruffled patch of greasy hair as before.

'_Well, damn,' _she tentatively touched the back of her own head feeling the throbbing lump hiding under her heavy hair. It must have affected Heidi somehow, because by now, panic should have set in, and she should have been scrambling for the door. Still her limbs made little effort to move and instead she continued to stand rooted to the same spot. She could hear an Irish accent proclaim wildly and weave extravagant falsehoods, something about a dare and a jealous girlfriend. The image of cross-dressing Ivan popped into Heidi's vacant mind and left her spluttering for composure.

The nurse at the station looked unimpressed, but seemed eager to move on to more pressing matters. She procured a wheel chair, into which the unconscious figure was promptly deposited. The nurse, her ID badge revealing her to be Nurse Flox, spared a moment to give the rag-tag threesome the once over, pausing only a moment longer to survey Heidi. Raising one brow, she turned her attention back to the wheel chair and its occupant. Heidi could feel her ears turning red and self-consciously pulled at the corner of her shirt willing it to cover her legs a little more.

The nurse's voice was a low croak, "Looks like he let St. Patty's go to his head."

Nodding to herself, the continued to fuss around the wheel chair, gingerly lifting one of the man's wrists. Sighing, she went back around her desk, picked up her phone, quickly punched a series of numbers and put the receiver back down.

"He's not in too good of shape. We're gonna take him back and a nurse is gonna have a look at him and disinfect some a' this. Hopefully by then a doctor'll be able to take a more detailed look. Every year, it's the same thing! Whoever came up with the idea to drink on St. Patrick's should be shot in the foot! You two don't look so bad, so you wait until we got time to fit you in. Here, I'm gonna need you to fill these out," with this she thrust a clipboard across her desk and motioned towards the waiting area.

Once again, the twitchy energy rolling off her male companion caught Heidi's attention and she could almost smell his dissatisfaction.

It was obvious that he couldn't give a rat's ass about formalities or protocol, he just wanted to get to the doctor immediately, and Heidi grudgingly agreed that after the stunt his brother pulled he probably suffered from a severe concussion.

'_And the sooner he gets medical attention, the sooner I…'_

Heidi's eyes grew round and she spotted the opportunity instantly. With him gone to tend to his brother she could slip out unnoticed and be long gone before anyone knew she had gone missing. She promised Baby Jesus she would light a candle for him in the first church she passed if he would just let this teensy favor slide. Her eyes turned gratefully towards the ceiling and she mouthed a silent 'thank you' after completing her internal plea.

Clearing her throat, she decided to take control of the situation, "Okay, thank you Nurse, we'll just get this done!"

Heidi snatched the clipboard from her, tossed it into the unconscious man's lap, and began wheeling him towards the waiting area. She paused only to tug on the other man's bathrobe.

His eyes wandered down to where she had taken ahold of him, eyes unfocused, a dangerous light flashing across them, like a thin film that momentarily obscured his vision. Heidi noticed this new tension that made his hands curl into fists. It was gone before she fully registered it had even been there.

She thought for a moment that he might slap her hand away, but the violent force that had built up dissipated as quickly as it seemed to have taken a hold of him. Instead, he followed her obediently, and Heidi was well aware of him watching her push the wheelchair. She found a nook for them to sit semi-privately, or at least a little further away from a group of loudly sobbing teenagers, parked the wheelchair and kicked in the break. The last thing Heidi wanted was for the precious cargo to roll away.

She slumped into one of the plastic chairs and momentarily running both hands across her face, listlessly picking an eye booger out of the corner of one eye. After a quick, crass yawn, Heidi pulled the clipboard onto her lap and tried to focus on the tiny letters dancing across the page. Her back curved, bringing her nose closer to the white sheet. She noticed the small number stub they had been given; number 697. Seconds later, the chairs shook with the force of the man throwing himself into the seat next to her, his leg moving up and down like a jackhammer, as he chewed at his dirty fingernails. The bag was tossed under his seat and sat still in a sad, crumpled heap.

Armed with the pen, she said, "I need a name,"

"Murphy MacManus," he had started staring off into the distance again, eyes apparently fixed on the opposite side of the room.

Heidi had just finished writing the first name when he interrupted her again, "No, no, tha's my name. He's Connor. C-O-N-N-O-R."

She glared at him, thinking that nobody could be _that _stupid as to give their own name, and crossed out the name before squeezing in 'Connor.'

'_So much for staying anonymous.'_

They went on like this for the next couple of minutes, she would ask questions and he would answer her, slowly, as if he had to dig deep in his memory to retract the information.

She had finished filling out the back, Murphy looking over her shoulder, and Heidi felt that she knew more than she cared to know about Connor MacManus, age 27. She quickly scurried to the nurses' station and deposited the paperwork, struggling past tight clumps of hysteric humans.

The number they had been given was called over the intercom before she was back in her seat and a wide-eyed Murphy met her halfway. She couldn't see much, but by now she could recognize the greasy mess of hair and half-naked form from just about anywhere. He looked terrified, and ready to run her over with the wheelchair so Heidi quickly stepped out of his way. To her surprise Murphy came to a halt, his gaze fixed on her face, seemingly trying to come to a conclusion.

Heidi was about to begin her farewells, wish him luck, and all that, when his hand shot out, wrapping itself around her upper arm. She jumped at the sudden contact of the strong warm hand, and the feel of his long fingers pressing into her muscle.

"We should get you into a pair a' pants," his gaze now fell to her lower half, clad in nothing but a pair of borrowed boots and cotton undies.

Somehow his gawking made her feel even more uncomfortable than Nurse Flox's disapproving glance and she forced herself not to fidget like some 15 year-old.

He used her embarrassment to his advantage, and slowly began pulling Heidi away from the exit. She didn't know how he could maneuver the heavy wheelchair, carry the bag, and keep a firm grip on her arm, but he was more dexterous than she gave him credit for. His hold on her was not hard, but he wasn't relenting either, and Heidi knew she would have to put up a fight if he was to let her go.

She grew very tired all of a sudden, fed up with the fucked up morning she had been having. Heidi recognized a losing battle when she saw one, and this was obviously a losing battle. It was time to hoist the white flag and surrender. So, Heidi let him drag her along.

'_Thanks for nothing, Jesus.'_

_

* * *

_

DID YOU LIKE IT? I hope so. Was it very confusing to figure out that the big italics chunk in the middle was a flashback? Review please? Or I will be forced to bore you with more inane stories that involve bodily fluids._  
_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Finally! Chapter three! Thank you to my most awesome beta reader for not only revising this son of a bitch once, but twice! Exclamation mark!

* * *

**Monday: March 18 1:09 P.M.**

Connor had experienced unconsciousness before, and as alarming as it could be, the pounding headache and cold feet he woke up to trumped any feelings of fright. The dull pain jumped from neuron to neuron, causing him to groan, the sound barely escaping his lips. That was enough though, because instantly he felt a gentle hand on his wrist.

"Connor?" he recognized Murphy's voice; the wave of relief he felt upon hearing the sound helped him forget his head ache momentarily.

His lids struggled against an unknown weight and, at first, the harsh light made him squint; suddenly the light was blocked out and he opened his eyes fully to see his brother's face hovering over his own. He was glad to see that Murphy was in one piece, yet he couldn't help notice that he was a little pale, a stony expression dominating his features. He blinked, cherishing the momentary darkness and braced himself to sit up, but Murphy had read his movements and was pushing him back into his pillow before he could even muster the strength to raise his elbow.

"Yer a stupid dick, ya know that?"

Connor could tell his twin was trying not to yell. He grinned sheepishly and studied the curtain that had been drawn around his twin bed. He could hear figures moving behind it and the soft whispers of other patients. His brother had crammed in next to him, sitting at the edge of his chair.

"Someone had ta save your ass." Connor didn't know if he should be amused or annoyed at the fact that Murphy was clucking over him like a hen, but if the throbbing in his temple was anything to go by, he figured irritation was the way to go. His brother always had been the clucking type, especially when it came to Connor. Unfortunately, the uncharacteristic motherly trait clashed with his short temper, and the result made for a very irate Murphy. Which then lead to an irate Connor, and nine times out of ten it ended in a violent altercation.

"The doctor's been ta see you. Says you're gonna be alright. Nothin' broken; just a sore knee, and they're giving you somethin' for that." He could tell that Murphy was trying hard to keep calm, but the shock of the past two hours still made him frown and he shifted back into his chair.

Connor noticed the cables snaking around his wrist and was a little surprised to see the I.V. drip positioned next to his bed. They'd been to the hospital on numerous occasions but never on any of those trips had they been there more than two hours. They had an unofficial "stitch and go" policy, and neither brother particularly liked the hospital, only ever agreeing to go when home remedies failed them and when the other threatened to get physical.

He couldn't remember the last time he had been admitted to a hospital. Surprisingly, he felt comfortable, the mattress was firm and the sheets were clean, a pleasant change from his mushy old bed, which served as his nightly sinkhole. He would have liked to do nothing more than sleep, but Connor knew that he couldn't leave Murphy in his current state of worry as the nurses at the station had probably had enough of him. He couldn't blame him, though, because if the roles had been reversed Connor would probably have been in the same shape, with the exception of having hidden it better.

It was a little easier to sit up now, something Connor attributed to the drugs steadily pumping into his bloodstream. His wrists were wrapped in clean gauze and he gently touched one-the gauze itched- but the flesh underneath still felt tender.

"So what happened?" Connor asked, swinging his legs out from under the sheets.

"You killed a Russian with our toilet," Murphy was obviously amused and Connor was glad to see that he had relaxed a little. "Not to mention you almost killed me and the girl. I'm guessing you know that you jumped on the other Russian. Tha's why we ended up here." There was that scolding tone again.

Connor didn't let it bother him, and instead looked down at his bandaged knee, gently feeling over it with his fingertips. It burned like hell.

"But they compensated us for our troubles," Murphy smirked and tossed him the bag that had been sitting under his chair.

Connor had an idea of what might be in the bag. He caught it with both hands and let out a low whistle when he saw the contents. "They really are too generous."

He picked up one of the guns, and closing one eye, aimed it at Murphy, who proceeded to give him the finger.

"Tha's real fuckin' mature, Murph."

He dropped the gun back into the bag, and rustled further through it, happy to see the two wads of bills and various pieces of gold jewelry. Lastly, his eyes fell on the two pairs of cuffs. One pair was bloody, presumably his, the other pair…

Connor tried hard to remember the dark-haired figure that had been kneeling next to Murphy. At first, he thought he had imagined the young woman, or what he assumed to be a woman. He didn't remember seeing her face; all he did recall was an unusual amount of pale skin and a tangle of long, heavy looking black hair.

Connor pulled out the clean handcuffs and held them up at eye-level. "Yer friend got a name?"

* * *

Murphy shrugged, the fact that he didn't know her name had not bothered him, as he had not given himself the time to think of anything but his brother. Up until a few moments ago he hadn't even considered why she had been in the alley in the first place. Now, the question seemed to nag at him more and more.

Usually when it came to the opposite sex, Murphy –as well as Connor- felt an overwhelming urge to protect all things feminine. He didn't know if that came with an Irish upbringing, or if that was a special MacManus trait, but he had two ways with women: shower them with affection or be a complete ass. So far he felt the latter applied to her. Somehow, she didn't sit well with him, even though she had helped him more than once today. It wasn't that he disliked her, but she was odd somehow. Even her appearance seemed to throw him off.

For one, she was too tall. Connor and he came in at about five foot eleven and if Murphy were to guess, she was around five foot eight. He liked well-endowed and petite. She was just lanky. He would have liked to think she was pretty, as all the components were there, but the haughty way she carried herself was a real turn off. She reminded Murphy of a cat. A well-fed, pampered feline. Lord knows, he wasn't a fan of cats.

'_Tight ass, though._' He nodded to himself, and watched his brother try to stand squarely on both feet.

He had removed the I.V., which Murphy wasn't very happy with, but he admitted to himself that he needed Connor coherent and not in a drug induced coma. Besides, it would take more than a jump from a five-story building to keep a MacManus down. His knee seemed to bother him quite a bit and before Connor could protest, Murphy threw Connor's arm around his shoulders.

They moved as one unit towards the drapes drawn around the small area; Murphy stuck his head carefully around a frayed edge and was glad to see no nurses in their immediate vicinity. Quickly he pulled back the curtain and, with brother in tow, began stumbling towards the hallway, passing a number of beds, some with curtains drawn, and others empty.

In their twenty-seven years, they had perfected sneaking to an art form. Especially in their younger years, there often came a time when they had to make a quick exit after getting in to something they weren't supposed to –Ma's liquor cabinet for example- and once again it proved to be a handy skill as they began their quick, unnoticed exit.

"Oy, don't make yourself so heavy, this isn't fuckin' charity!" Murphy managed to hiss as Connor limped on his left.

Connor responded with a slap to the back of his head, and Murphy promptly dug his elbow into Connor's ribs. They eventually made it out into the hall, looking at one another threateningly, but stopped their squabbling so as to not draw too much attention. The hall was relatively empty of the usual hospital activity.

To their left sat a small group of nuns, one of them holding her face, partially covering a gash on her cheek. Both nodded their heads in respect before turning to their right; a kid around the age of eleven sat alone on a gurney. The paper bag rustled next to them as they slowly began heading in his direction.

Their mood had steadily improved as the shock of the last few hours had begun to evaporate, and they both approached the kid with sloppy grins. Connor was the first to speak, and Murphy let him take the lead as they began joking around, getting familiar.

The bizarre events of that morning were almost forgotten, if it weren't for the bag that Connor had stashed under the gurney and out of view. Murphy had managed to call Doc in the time it had taken Connor to wake up, and the old man had immediately promised to come. They hadn't discussed how they would proceed, but one thing was for sure, the evidence had to be removed until they could deal with it in peace. The one other thing that was left was her.

She had skillfully used his few seconds of shock and maneuvered the situation on to her own turf, which would explain why Murphy had been feeling so off-balance all morning. He was sure of one thing, though, she was in no way innocent. Murphy had never seen her before, which meant she didn't belong to the neighborhood, and he was sure that her being in that alley was just the Russians' way of killing two birds with one stone. She wasn't a hooker; she didn't look desperate enough, which meant that she was official business, whereas he and Connor were revenge.

Murphy did not like the direction his thoughts were taking him. The last thing they needed was more trouble with the Russians, as it was only a matter of time before they found out that two of their thugs were dead.

He turned his focus back to the game him and his twin had started to play with the boy, but he was happy to see Doc walking towards them. Murphy pointed silently and Connor immediately limped towards their bag.

"J-Jesus. What the fuck happened? Are ya b-boys alright?" Doc tried hard to whisper, barely concealing his panic. He looked around wild-eyed. They had moved out of ear shot from both the boy and the nuns, who were for the most part still absorbed in their own issues.

"We're alive," Connor whispered back, looking sympathetic.

Just then, Murphy noticed a familiar figure walking towards them. His stomach sank, which was confusing, but he had little time to think about it as his brother's head snapped in her direction as well. Someone had given her thin scrubs with a pattern of rainbow ducks which only made her seem more menacing. She carried Connor's boots under her arm, her own feet whispering against the linoleum in a pair of flimsy slippers. Connor cleared his throat next to Murphy; even Doc had turned in her direction.

She halted a foot in front of them, smiling faintly, and thrust the shoes towards Connor. "Thanks for letting me borrow these. Good to see you're alive."

He dazzled her with one of his best smiles –although she seemed unimpressed- and began struggling to put his boots back on his feet.

"It'll take more than a couple of Russian fucks to put us down."

Murphy watched her carefully, he was weary of her being too involved in their plans; she looked savvy enough to use them to her own advantage.

Doc didn't seem to be bothered by her presence and prattled on, "An F.B.I. agent came by the bar. He left me his c-c, he left me his c-c, oh, he fuckin' gave me this… FUCK…ASS!"

Connor took it, studying the letters carefully; Murphy trying to peak over his shoulder.

Doc continued, "What're ya going to do?"

Connor finally looked up and handed the card to Murphy who scanned the lines with interest. "We're gonna turn ourselves in. Tell them it was self-defense."

Doc began nodding eagerly waving his hands in front of him.

"Y-y-yeah that's what he said."

Murphy furrowed his brow and looked up. "How the fuck's he know that? We haven't spoken to anyone yet." His eyes met the girl's, but she still had not said anything.

"D-d-don't know. He didn't say," Doc's head bobbed from side to side with his stutter.

Murphy exchanged a look with Connor, both coming to a silent agreement.

"Listen Doc, we need a favor."

"A-anything."

Connor took the bag from under his arm. "Hold this shit for us, Doc. We'll be comin' back for it when we get out."

Murphy barely registered the movement out of the corner of his eye, but soon the bag was in the girl's possession, held it tight to her chest, and she had jumped out of their reach.

'_Like a fuckin' cat!'_

"Ah, ah, boys, I don't think so. Now, why would you endanger your kind friend by giving him something so incriminating?" A coy smile played around her lips, she was done playing the silent observer.

Murphy's good mood vanished. Angrily, he tried to snatch the bag back. "Don' be stupid, no one'll know he has it."

She was faster, again, backing away down the hall from where she had come, hiding the bag behind her back.

"Do me a favor and I'll give you back your goodies." she looked amused, but her voice sounded serious.

"What do ya want?" Connor looked ready to tackle her if she took another step back.

"Don't say anything to the police about me being there."

"You want us to lie?"

"Not lie, just pretend I was never there. Shouldn't be too hard, right?"

"Now why in the fuck would we do tha'?"

Her smile had vanished completely; head held high she replied coolly, "Don't worry about it."

"How can we trust you, we don' even know your name!" Murphy's temper was rising with each sentence she uttered; if Connor wasn't going to take her out, he would.

"Heidi Hubbard, nice to meet you."

There was momentary silence where Murphy and Connor looked at each other. Murphy tried hard not to laugh. "Hubbard, what the hell kinda name is that? Tha's real original of your parents."

"Listen, piss wad, I don't think someone with the word 'anus' in their last name should be so quick to judge."

Murphy was about to retort with something nasty, but Connor put a hand on his shoulder.

"Alright, we'll do this, but you go with Doc until we get back, and when we do ya better answer some fuckin' questions."

"Right," Doc, who had looked as if he had stopped breathing, jumped back in to action, determined not to let them down.

The girl –Heidi- raised her arms in surrender, the contents of the trash bag shifting with the movement. Reaching in to it, she pulled out the car keys and tossed them to Murphy. "Wouldn't want you to be stranded; although, they might've towed it by now."

Mouth curling into a satisfied grin she began walking towards the exit. Doc looked at the twins one last time before hurrying after her, a loud "FUCK! ASS!" trailing after him.

The nuns had looked up in shock and surprise and Connor quickly moved towards the gurney were the boy was sitting, "None of that cursin' was directed at you, he's a bit…"

The smell of wool and something citrusy had trailed behind Heidi, and it still lingered in Murphy's nose. He rubbed it, irritated at the fact that she had-once again- taken control of the situation.

He felt Connor next to him.

"This should be interesting."

Murphy didn't bother to respond.

* * *

**7:48 P.M.**

A steaming bowl of stew was placed in front of Heidi, who could barely keep herself from salivating. Clutching the spoon in her left she quickly brought a portion to her lips, a small moan of satisfaction escaping as she swallowed. She had forgotten how good it felt to eat something. Not wasting any time, Heidi kept shoveling stew into her mouth, partially ignoring the old man that now placed a drink to her right.

The bar, McGinty's, was devoid of any other patrons, and the signs of destruction were still visible around the small area. Doc had explained to Heidi what had happened the previous night. Grinning, she tried to imagine the fight.

The past few hours had been productive, after the hospital she had managed to convince Doc that he should take Heidi to her apartment. It was crucial Heidi pick up some of her things; yet at the same time, she had been apprehensive about going back to her place. There was a good chance that the Russians had already found her apartment and torn it to bits; or worse they were waiting for her. Luckily, that had not been the case. She had found the door unlocked but otherwise intact. The interior was more or less how she had left it. The signs of her struggle from earlier were visible, a turned over chair around the small dining table and a number of items on the floor. She had carefully stepped over a broken glass bottle, thick shards embedded in the carpet. Moving fast, she had grabbed the duffel bag she had come with, tossing in the necessary clothes, underwear, and toiletries. Diving across the disheveled bed she was ecstatic to find her glasses where she had placed them the night before. Quickly pushing them on to her face, it had been a little startling how the world jumped back in to focus. She had taken a few moments to further survey her small studio.

They hadn't bothered to search the place, which Heidi was very glad about. Jumping back on to her feet she'd sprinted into the adjacent kitchen space, and ripped open the middle cupboard. Pushing aside an array of chipped glasses she pried away the back board, revealing a hole in the drywall. Sticking her hand in, she fished around a little while muttering to herself, until she finally found what she was looking for. Her gun was wrapped in an old kitchen rag. Checking the safety she tossed it into the duffel bag along with the silencer. She had taken one last look around the apartment, checking to see if she forgot anything. The sad little space seemed even gloomier than it usually did.

Having hoisted her bag across her shoulder she'd snatched up her wallet and the keys and locked the door behind her. It was only a quick jog down the stairs and around the corner of the block before she was sitting in Doc's old Chevy truck, at which point he had brought her to the bar.

She had finished with her stew, the spoon clinking against the porcelain.

Stretching her arms over her head Heidi said, "I think that was the best stew I've ever had!"

"Thank you. It's an o-o-old recipe."

Doc stood behind the bar rearranging glasses and shifting bottles. Heidi had gotten used to his Tourette. At first, his constant movements had made her nervous and just as jumpy as him, but now she managed to ignore the quick motions, and it seemed as if it had calmed a little bit since they got to the bar. She curled her hand around the tumbler in front of her and took an exploratory whiff of the liquid inside.

"S-s-scotch. It'll help you s-s-sleep."

"Scotch! In an Irish bar? That's blasphemous." The scotch was gone in one gulp. Heidi watched Doc clean a little longer, feeling comfortably warm. Her lids kept falling shut and she was on the verge of dozing off when Doc cleared his throat.

"Alright, girly, I got a p-p-p-place for you to sleep," he walked with a slight limp that caused him to sway from side to side, but even so he was surprisingly agile.

Figuring this was her cue to follow him she hopped off the barstool and walked behind him as he led her through a back door she had not noticed. They entered into a dark corridor, another door ahead of them, but Doc made a quick turn to their left. They now were facing a steep, narrow staircase that Doc began to climb, Heidi following close behind. Doc stopped shortly, and Heidi almost walked into his back. She could hear him wrestling with a pair of keys – a "Fuck…Ass!" accompanying his struggle- followed by the low click of a lock and soon they were standing in a dusty space with boarded up windows and a dim light source. The dust was so thick in the air that it made Heidi cough, in vain she tried the wave some of it away from her face. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out an old pool table in the middle of the space and odd boxes stacked against the walls.

Doc had disappeared behind one of the larger boxes and soon came back dragging what looked like a cot. He hummed as he set it up, Heidi standing by stupidly. Bustling around her he procured an old quilt, shaking it out over the cot.

"I hope t-t-t-this works for ya."

"This is perfect!" Heidi tossed her bag on the floor and watched another cloud of dust float into the air.

She was surprised when Doc handed her a key. "It's for the r-r-r-room, it's a bit dusty but you'll be safe an' the boys'll be back for ya tomorrow."

Heidi ignored the last comment, and sat down on the cot spreading her hands across the quilt.

Doc stood by the door. "Bathroom's downstairs."

He quietly closed the door behind him and a hush fell in the room. Heidi watched the flicker of the bulb above her head momentarily before kicking off her shoes and throwing herself fully on the cot. She felt tired but at the same time a restless energy raced through her body. Rolling on to her side she unzipped her bag with one hand and fished around until she felt the hard body of the gun. Pulling it out, she threw the rag she had wrapped it in carelessly to the ground. Switching off the safety, she removed the cassette, satisfied to see it full she pushed it under her lumpy pillow and rolled onto her back. Heidi felt tired but she didn't allow her mind to quiet down as she revisited the events of the day, trying to make some sense of it. The fact that she had been so very close to death scared her now more than it had at the time of her would-be execution. She tried to recall Connor and Murphy's faces, but her mind's eye only recollected fuzzy images of tall, dark-haired figures in greasy bathrobes.

There was also the matter of the Russians. Heidi couldn't imagine that they would let this rest. She had fled New York to escape the wrath of the Japanese, only to walk into the Russians burly arms. As far as there being a connection between the two, she couldn't quite be sure, but having screwed the Russians over on several occasions she was sure it had something to do with petty revenge. Now the question was if she should stay in Boston and try to clean some of the mess the two brothers were bound to cause or if she should escape to her parents' place, at the risk of endangering them. _"Not that they can't take care of themselves…"_

Heidi forcibly cleared her mind and went to turn of the light. She waited a few seconds after the inky blackness rendered her blind. Her eyes slowly adjusted and soon she could make out the dusty shapes, carefully padding over to her cot and disappearing under the blanket. Tucking one hand under the pillow and closing her eyes, Heidi was soon snoring softly oblivious to the noises of the city beyond the shuttered windows.


End file.
